eof in letters of incandescent light. I saw
the names Amano, Biccano, Demano, Hirlano, Kilano, Pridano, Redolano,
Ecthyano, Oxemano, Jiracano, Oirelano, Orphitano, Cedeshano, Padomano,
Jocdilano, Nidialano, Bischomano, Omdolopano and many others,
indicating the various departments of soul development to which each
temple was dedicated.

The sorcerer waved his wand and suddenly a band of priestesses
appeared on the pavement moving in strange and fantastic measures.
Their attire consisted of low-cut circles of bright and beautiful
stuffs with short skirts, having in front of each a sheaf of heavy
folds that expanded and fell as the dancer moved. All wore jewels and
rings of precious metals on wrists and ankles. Their faces, perfect in
feature, were pale rose in color but marvellously delicate. Ranging
themselves on either side of the immense aisle, they formed a
delightful guard of honor for the grand sorcerer and his retinue.

They were not only souls, but the materializations of souls, that
danced and sang as when on earth. They were souls of former
priestesses reincarnated by the sorcerer and who vanished when we
reached the entrance to the temple of the labyrinth. It certainly was
a delicate and superexcited imagination that wrought the splendid
archway through which we passed into the grotto garden beyond. Neither
Greek nor Moor, Hindoo nor Goth ever conceived such arabesques as were
sculptured on the walls of the entrance to the holy of holies.

In the garden, hewn from the solid stone, were interminable thickets
and hedges enclosing labyrinthine walks. There were open spaces in
which stood veritable trees with strangest leaf and flower, branch and
stem delicately chiselled from the solid rock. There were also acres
of grass and flowers, wonderful creations of art. There were rose
bushes, heavy with their eternal bloom, the flowers stained crimson as
in life and the leaves their varying gradations of green.

Fruit trees, with pale pink flowers and leaves light and dark green,
stood amid the green grass that never waved in the breeze. An
immovable streamlet ran down its bed of carved irregularities between
flowery banks and underneath a bridge formed of a single arch.

I looked up expecting to see the sky, but my gaze met the solid
heavens of stone, and I knew again I was in a cavern. The feeling was
somewhat suffocating. The garden was lit by an electric sun in the
centre of the roof two hundred feet overhead.